Switch
by writing-to-music
Summary: After a fight one night, Internet stars Dan and Phil wake up to find that they have switched bodies with each other. They must deal with this and try to find out what caused it and how to stop it, while dealing with the aftermath of their fight. Two-shot.


**A/N: This is my spin on a basic storyline, I hope you enjoy it. I've decided to stop leaving "please review" in my summaries, but reviews are still very much appreciated! Also, in case this gets confusing, the person speaking is from their mind, not their body – so when Phil talks, it's Phil in Dan's body, and vice versa.**

 **Disclaimer: I am not claiming that I know or am affiliated with in any way, Dan and Phil. Wow, that sounds boring. I don't own them, lolz.**

Phil Lester sat on his bed, the cheerful colours of his surroundings for once doing nothing to improve his mood. He rumpled up his carefully straightened fringe, creating a messy quiff that collapsed within seconds. The lights were dim, and the semi-darkness of the London skyline was only broken by the few lights left on in the apartment buildings nearby. Phil's bedroom was just dark enough to create an aura of gloominess that contrasted to the despair of his current feelings.

He had just fought with his best friend, Dan Howell, and he didn't think things could get any worse.

Well, one of them could have died, and that would have been worse, but as the situation they had been put in that night was just stupid and not dangerous, this fight was the worst thing to happen.

Phil didn't even remember how it started. It couldn't have been over anything of importance, but it was enough to bring them from quietly scrolling through their respective laptops to a full-on screaming match in under five minutes, and that didn't happen often. In fact, Phil could not remember this ever happening before. They had had fights, of course, disagreements, small things resolved in a few days at most. Everyone did – they were human.

But this screaming at each other was so alien. It had been so loud. Phil flopped back on his bed, the wicker creaking under the force he created. He replayed the argument over in his head, and already was inwardly cringing at some of the things he'd said – for he wasn't innocent in this. They had both said extremely hurtful things, turning good subjects and memories into points to argue over and try to desperately prove – prove what? That one was better than the other? Who was more attractive, or creative, or hardworking? It was so strange for them to do that, and Phil already regretted everything.

He knew he couldn't go into Dan's room and apologize, and he would deny it being a matter of pride. Dan didn't want to see him, he reasoned, Dan would probably still be mad. It would be better for both of them to wait this out.

Dan, of course, was not mad anymore. He was the first to admit that he could be very stubborn, but he didn't want to be mad at Phil. He knew that the fight was stupid, and that neither of them meant anything they'd said. They hadn't done this before, and the feeling of not being able to just go and talk to Phil was strange.

After all they'd done together, especially in the past year, were they just going to fight over something as small as this was? Could they have deeper problems than whatever caused this, and they were just surfacing now?

No, of course not, Dan rationalized. He was going to go apologize.

But that same little feeling, that Phil still might be mad, combined with the memory of the harsh words just exchanged, was what stopped Dan from going in to apologize then. He decided instead to just sleep on it, and it would be better in the morning.

But when they woke up the next morning, it was decidedly not better.

The first thing Phil noticed, upon waking, was that he was in Dan's room. His first instinct was panic, followed, bizarrely, by a thought that the shippers would have a field day with this - if they ever found out, of course.

He blinked and rubbed his eyes, realizing that he could see just fine, and inwardly groaning when he realized he must have left his contacts in. That was weird, though – he remembered taking them out before he went to sleep the night before.

By observing what was around him, he could confirm that yes, this was Dan's room, and not a hallucination. The grey bedspread and the mess of dark-coloured clothing on the floor were dead giveaways. Even through his sleepy mind, Phil also knew that Dan was not in the room with him. He wasn't freaking out too badly, yet, although this was incredibly strange.

Then it occurred to him – if he was in Dan's room, was Dan in his?

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, stood up quickly – and promptly fell over.

Phil gasped, being quiet so as not to wake Dan, who generally slept in a bit later. Yes, he was clumsy, but not that clumsy yet, or so he hoped. He was more of the type to bump into things, or drop things, not just fall over at the most random of times. Thankfully, he wasn't hurt, having landed on the carpet.

Picking himself up, Phil caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the back of Dan's door – and froze.

Dan was looking back at him, looking as much of a deer in the headlights as Phil felt like at that moment.

Phil then realized it was a mirror, and an uneasy feeling settled in his stomach, even more so than the fight last night had given him.

Cautiously, Phil waved his hand, and Dan in the mirror copied it. He looked at his own hand, seeing the skin just a little bit more tan than his own, noticing for the first time the black pajama bottoms that certainly weren't his.

"No way," Phil breathed. This had to be a dream. People didn't just wake up in the body of their best friend. That only happened in that Freaky Friday movie, and even then, it was a mom and daughter that switched.

 _Switched._ Oh no. If Phil woke up in Dan's body, did that mean it was the other way around, too?

Phil stumbled out across the hall, and burst through the door of his own bedroom, not bothering to knock. If Dan was up, he would have noticed it already.

Sure enough, Dan was asleep, although to Phil, it just looked like he was watching himself sleep. It was entirely weird, and unpleasant, and too many other adjectives. He had to wake him up. This wasn't a dream.

"Dan, wake up," Phil said, shaking his own arm – that was so weird to think about. His voice, although scratchy from sleep, had Dan's exact tone and accent. "Wake up wake up wake up!"

Dan shifted and turned away. "Go away, Phil," he mumbled, and then realized what his own voice sounded like. He sat up, rubbing at his eyes like Phil had, and then panicking when he realized he couldn't see.

Phil grabbed his glasses from his bedside table and passed them to Dan before Dan could progress into full panicking, however, it didn't seem to help matters much.

Dan stared in total shock at Phil, because he was looking at his own face. For once, he seemed to be at a loss for words. It was not an attractive look on Phil's face, because "total shock" is not really attractive on anybody.

"I think we switched bodies," said Phil, "and I have no idea how it happened."

"You didn't – oh, I don't know, buy really weird scented candles off eBay or something?" Dan asked, desperately trying to rationalize what was happening, but to no avail. He truly was grasping at straws here. Phil shook his head no.

Dan put his fingers to his temples, trying to make sense of it. "This is just like Freaky Friday," he said quietly.

"That's what I thought too!" said Phil, smiling a bit.

Dan lowered his hands and looked at Phil. "How are you so calm?"

"I'm not!" Phil said. "I don't know what to do! How long will this last? How did it happen? How do we stop it?"

He didn't want to get this upset, but the reality of it was crashing down on him as he realized it wasn't a dream. Dan was the one to calm him down this time, patting his shoulder awkwardly and saying random semi-calming sentences that worked, oddly enough.

The next thing that occurred to both of them was the fight the previous night, and the already-awkward feeling doubled in intensity. Having calmed down, Phil noticed that he wasn't wearing a shirt, as Dan rarely did to bed, and that only served to make the atmosphere more uncomfortable.

"I'm going to go – get dressed," Phil said, and left the room, leaving Dan behind him, and still trying to shake off the feeling of weirdness to have yourself watch you go. This was going to get confusing real fast.

Making his way back to Dan's room, Phil remembered that he hadn't grabbed any of his clothes from his room, and that unless he wanted to go back in there, he was going to have to dress in Dan's clothes. They were very alike in clothing size, but not in any sort of style, and Phil did not find the idea of dressing in all black appealing, even if he was inhabiting Dan's body.

If he thought it was awkward before, it was nothing to the amount of stuttering he did to get back in the room and grab some clothes. They hadn't ever been this nervous around each other before, and it was odd. They had always been close, ever since they first started talking to each other.

After brushing his teeth and getting dressed in the Pugs Not Drugs sweater and black jeans that he was pretty sure were Dan's in the first place, Phil opened the bathroom door, just to run into Dan – it was so _weird_ to run into yourself. Dan must have been in his room while Phil was away, because he too was wearing his own clothes. All black was a weird look on Phil's body, but all things aside, it was probably the least weird thing that had happened thus far that day.

"You look like a punk edit," Phil said, at the same time as Dan remarked, "The shippers would go absolutely wild."

Silence descended, as neither knew just what to say, and the next few minutes of breakfast-making and eating passed in unnatural silence.

Phil reflected, as he ate cereal that for once was not Dan's, that he should probably talk about the fight at some point. It was the obvious elephant in the room, and he had been planning to apologize to Dan today, the night before.

But apologizing is one of those things that is easier said than done, and Phil couldn't imagine bringing it up at that moment and being met with any sort of good response.

And as the silence between them grew ever more awkward and heavy, neither knowing what to say in order to soften or break it, their predicament seemed more hopeless. Both wanted to apologize, but neither knew quite how.

But something had to happen eventually, and as breakfast came to a close, one of the two made up their minds to say what they had needed to since the previous night, the exact words that could possibly do something about their situation.

"We've got to fix this – and the only way we're doing that is if we forget the fight for now."

 **A/N: And there's part one! This will be a two-shot, and I'll update it when I finish the second part. I plan the final word count to be around four thousand. Who said those words? What inspired them to say it? How will the two figure this out? Find out next time!**


End file.
